QRS
by Geneviev
Summary: Steph is an exRanger and meets Ranger and the guys on a mission.
1. Chapter 1

Please note: I am a Babe. In the end (I promise) things _will_ work out…Please note: I am not a Cupcake. In the end (I promise) things _will not_ work out. Consider this your one and only warning from here on out.

Standard Disclaimer applies. Janet owns them…I don't. I'm not making any money, nor do I wish to. This story takes place in alternate universe. Characters are changed for better or for worse.

Okay, so I'm sitting here, while it's actually 80° in Michigan, in my basement wearing a **_very_** pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. This is due to it being 80° in Michigan for the first in a very long time and I got very, very sunburned. So, here's the first chapter to my newest Alphabet Story.

Slight language warning.

**Chapter 1**

I sat behind my desk staring at a search Silvio printed off for me, wondering where in the hell my skip could be. Sometimes, my job was great. Other times, like this, my job gave me a headache, double vision, and an urge to beat the living hell out of the punching bag in the fifth floor gym.

I might have almost possibly been on to something (but probably not) when my office phone rang. Not many people called my office directly. It's not that people didn't speak to me, it's just that they generally call the lobby, get transferred to the comm. room, and then Tank places them on hold while he informs me about the caller. In which case, it probably the lobby or the control room.

Neither of which showed up on my caller ID. I took one look at the phone number with the '202' area code and knew who it was instantly. Fuck.

"Carlos Manoso," I identified myself to the person on the other line.

"Manoso, you have a plane ticket coming your way. Along with directions on where you're going and a rental car," Gerald Simmons' voice instructed over the phone.

"Let me guess, the government is sending me on a vacation to Hawaii," I said dryly.

"Funny. You're going to meet your co-captain of a team you're going to lead. Everything's being faxed to you now. I want you gone _soon_. Don't fuck this up, Manoso."

"No problem, sir. I'll be out the door the second my men receive the fax, but can you tell me about me partner?"

"No underestimations. That's all." Click.

No underestimations, huh? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Who the hell was I being paired with?

Tank knocked once on the door before opening it. "Fax for you man; looks like you're outta here, eh?"

"Yeah, Simmons just called me. I gotta go meet up with a new co-captain for a team we're gonna lead."

"Who's the newbie?"

"I don't know. Hell, I don't even know if he's new to captaining. All Simmons told me was _no underestimations._"

"That's fucked up man. Stay safe and don't get dead." We shared one of those manly hugs-slash-handshakes and I was out the door to pack some clothes.

♫

I stood waiting to board the plane to San Diego. No underestimations. I couldn't even imagine. Who was I being paired with, Barbie? I always thought a good rule of thumb was to expect the worst, and then when you find the outcome out you might even be relieved.

Barbie. I was being forced in a team with fucking Barbie. Great. I was looking at the directions from the airport to Barbie's house in San Diego, when I realized, I didn't even know the name of whom I was meeting. This kept getting better and better. Next, I'll find out I've been sent on a suicide mission.

♫

I came in the door of my San Diego Spanish style house from work and Lucy waddled up to me on her two hind legs. "Hey, Luce!" I greeted her. She smiled showing her teeth and wrapped her arms around my neck as I hoisted her up on my hip.

Just then, the doorbell rang. All I had to do to answer it was simply turn around and swing the door open…which I did. And there stood a man in black.

♫

The plane landed, I got my rental car, and was now driving through an upper-middle class portion of San Diego. Spanish style houses with terra-cotta tiled roofs and green front lawns lined the streets.

I swung the black Cadillac sedan in a driveway addressed 40295 Tropical Lane; behind a candy apple red Jeep Liberty. The sprawling three-story home was on the left of the street. The lawn was well tended to and gardens spread out over the land with varying colors, shapes, and sizes.

I took inventory of my surroundings. Small children, Hispanic and American races, were chasing a ball down the block; nothing seemed threatening. I opened the door to the car and got out, taking the manila folder that held the information about the case.

I headed up the side walk, stepped up the three steps to the porch and rang the doorbell.

A few seconds later, the door opened to a very petite woman. I put her height at about five-foot-zero; weight at about eighty pounds; the monkey on her shoulder at about…whoa, hold the god damn phone; there was a fucking monkey on her shoulder.

Okay, moving past the ape, she had a band of thorns tattooed around her left bicep. A ring in her eye-brow and her nose and off to the side of her lips. She still was holding a monkey, for some unknown reason. Her hair was about to the middle of her back; long, golden brown, and fell in sexy curls. Her face was round with full lips (making me wonder about other piercings and tattoos she might have), and sun kissed cheeks and nose. Her eyes were a piercing, sharp blue color, as if she might strike out with venom any minute. I oddly found myself instantly attracted to her. Barbie…is she who I was paired with? I remembered Simmons words…_no underestimations._ Okay, then; Barbie with piercings and a tattoo. Huh.

She wore a very tight black tank-top, exposing about an inch of cleavage; and khaki baggy cargo shorts. Very short shorts. She was barefoot and holding a monkey.

"I'm not exactly sure who you are," I admitted.

"That's alright," she said, "I already know who I am. Who are you?"

"Well, uh, Gerald Simmons sent me here to get acquainted with you. Unless there is another person living in this household that has a contract though the government?" I paused for her reply, and actually got one.

"It's only me and Lucy here," she told me.

"Lucy?"

"Meet Lucy, my daughter," she said and the thing on her hip stuck its hands out and did some weird thing with its teeth; maybe a smile.

"Babe, that's a monkey."

"First off, don't call me 'Babe.' Second off, Lucy is _not_ a monkey; she's a chimpanzee. Learn the difference, since you obviously don't know already. Third off, you still haven't told me who in the hell you are."

I stuck my hand out, "Carlos Manoso; street name's Ranger."

She looked me up and down as if trying to decide if she should give me her name. God, this woman was gorgeous. She hesitantly took my hand. "Do you go by Carlos or Ranger?" she asked. Okay, still don't know a name. I mean, I know the monkey's…chimp's…name, but still don't have the chick's. Ugh. What had become of my life?

"Either or."

"Which one do _I_ call you…as your partner?"

I gave her my best smile. "You can call me Carlos."

She gave a slight nod and set Lucy on her feet. Lucy walked off, out of sight. "And you are?" I asked.

She extended her hand. "Doctor Stephanie Plum. To _you_…as your partner…you can call me just call me Stephanie."


	2. Chapter 2

Standard Disclaimer applies. Janet owns them…I don't. I'm not making any money, nor do I wish to. This story takes place in alternate universe. Characters are changed for better or for worse.

A huge thank you to my editor, Carmen!

**Chapter 2**

I extended my hand to him and said, "Stephanie Plum. To _you_…as your partner…you can call me Stephanie." I added, "It's nice to meet you, Ranger."

His warm hand gently held mine. A hint of laughter sparkled in his eyes. Lord, was this man gorgeous or what? Ranger wore black cargo pants, a black painted on tee-shirt, and a pair of black Ranger boots. I had many identical outfits. Hell, every Army Ranger has multiple identical outfits.

I had been in the Army Ranger's a few years back. I loved every second of it. The adrenaline rush can only compare to a few things. And one of those things, I was sure the man standing in front of me could give me. He looked to have a Latin background, his almost black hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck, and his muscles had muscles. Wow.

_No, Stephanie_, I told myself, _you wouldn't give yourself up to a man, would you? After everything you stand for? After everything you've promised? You'd just blow it all away for a great night? And how would you know it was great…you have nothing to compare it with! It could be lousy and you wouldn't even know it._

_Well_, the other side argued, _I could tell somewhat, I'm sure._ The other part of me shut up.

I looked at the man standing in my doorway. It was about ninety degrees outside and my door was wide open. "Come in," I ordered him. "You're letting all the cool air out."

We sat on my couch, Lucy in my lap, and talked.

"So Simmons sent you here?" I asked.

"Yeah."

I had some stranger in my house, and he was claiming my boss sent him here. I took the phone from its cradle next to the couch and dialed.

"Simmons."

"It's Plum," I told him.

"What do you want?"

"There's some strange man sitting on my couch."

"You're a trained Special Forces Army Ranger. You don't need me to babysit you. You want him gone…you fucking take care of it yourself."

"He's telling me you sent him. Care to explain."

"Oh, yeah. His name's Manoso."

"Yes, we've introduced ourselves. I'm a trained Special Forces Army Ranger…I can take care of myself. Why the hell is he here?"

"You have a mission. More info is at the office in LA…go there to pick it up." And he hung up. Damn.

♫

I watched as she folded her phone back and put it in her pocket. "Am I cleared or do I need to go through a few more checks?"

"Whatever." She glanced at the clock. "Shit. Peanut butter and jelly?" she asked me. "I have to leave in fifteen minutes."

She got up and headed toward the kitchen, taking out Jif peanut butter, blackberry jam, and bread. She made two double-decker sandwiches and one normal, handing a double-decker to me and the normal to the ape. Stephanie poured three glasses of milk and we sat at the kitchen table, eating sandwiches.

Suddenly she jumped up from the table, "Gotta go. Come on."

"Where?"

"Work."

"Where do you work?"

"Where don't I work?" What the hell was that supposed to mean, then she added, "Come on, you can come along."

Guess I was about to find out…

We loaded into her Jeep Liberty, the chimp in the back seat, and she pulled out of her driveway, her neighborhood, her town. An hour and forty-five minutes later, she slowed the car down from ninety-five miles-per-hour and pulled off the highway, pulling into UCLA parking lot.

"Student?" I questioned.

"Professor," she corrected. On what, special forces?

French hall, parking lot, for teachers. Keys out of the ignition, chimp out of the back seat, heading for the door.

"What do you teach here?" Another question on my part.

"A symphonic band and a concert band. We meet twice a week for two hours. I'll get cha outta here by six o'clock. If you want, there's a lounge down the hall, where you can sit; or you can act like you teach here and fall asleep. Your choice."

She flounced into the building. Symphonic bands and concert bands? She looked more like she'd be on stage singing heavy medal. I found another tattoo on her left, back shoulder. _Strength;_ written in funky, black lettering; about two inches by six inches. An odd, slight bulge on her very flat stomach showed she probably had her naval pieced as well; although, it didn't look like the normal naval piercing. Following from behind, I noticed an awesome ass. It was rounded. Not exactly fitting with the very small body of hers, but still looked beyond good.

She hit a button for the elevator, we stepped inside, and she hit floor three.

♫

As we headed back to my car, I got to thinking. You know, sometimes I love my job. I get to teach college band. I love music. I love directing. I love the sound of a good symphony.

Sometimes, like today, I couldn't stand my job. Students don't listen. Students don't shut up. Students don't play with good tone.

Ranger sat in the front of the room, watching. Either that or he can sleep with his eyes open. I sorta resent that he got to see the bad side of my teaching. (Me stopping every five measures and yelling.) I mean when the music says to play _piano _play _piano_. When the music says play _forte_ play _forte_. I don't get what's so hard about that! 

I swung the Jeep Liberty onto the roadway and glanced at Ranger. "You know," I said, "I'm not usually that mean of a professor."

"You mentioned other jobs. What else do you do?"

"Other than various government jobs?" He nodded before I went on. "I give private lessons on piano and flute."

"Damn, it must be hell having a frigid teacher going one-on-one."

I felt my face flame up. "Did you not hear me? I said I wasn't usually that mean!"

"What government jobs do you do?"

"I believe it's my turn to ask a question…What do you do, other than government contractor?"

"I own a business. RangeMan LLC," said Ranger.

"You own RangeMan?" I sounded incredulous, even to myself.

"Yeah. You've heard of it out here on the west coast?"

"First, I used to live in Trenton. Second, you have a huge reputation in our world."

"In our world?"

"The world of independent contractors for the government. Ex-Special Forces Army Rangers."

"I see. Now answer my questions."

"I help train contractors. I work with them when it's their first time out. Their second time, their on their own."

"Damn. We were on our own our first time. The feds really want us safe, huh?"

"They do the newbies."

I rolled into the parking lot. The building looked like any other and was almost so unnoticeable, most people didn't see it. There was no sign or anything marking what it was, just a mailbox out front with a street address on it.

Ranger and I spotted it immediately. We headed to the fifth floor where we'd find the assignment administration and the main secretary. Her name marker on her desk identified her as Laura Coe. She was wearing a wedding ring.

"Uh-hem, Mrs. Coe? My name's Stephanie Plum and this is my partner Carlos Manoso. Gerald Simmons sent us here to pick up some information."

"Oh, yes. He called. Here is your plane reservation information; it will pick you up at the San Diego Airport tomorrow morning at nine-thirty. You'll meet your team mates on the plane. You'll be working with a Robert Brown, Lester Santos, and a Richard Lovejoy; Mr. Manoso, I believe you already know them. Also with a Paul Plum and a Bree Ret."

"Plum, any relation to you? I know who he is." Ranger asked. Great. Paul's going to be on our team. I just love this. Bree Ret, on the other hand, had been a friend of mine for quite a while. I was excited about working with her again, and knowing I wasn't the only girl going.

"My brother," I mumbled an answer.


	3. Chapter 3

Standard Disclaimer applies. Janet owns them…I don't. I'm not making any money, nor do I wish to. This story takes place in alternate universe. Characters are changed for better or for worse.

**Chapter 3**

"My brother," I mumbled an answer.

♫

We stepped off the plane into hell. Okay maybe not hell, but pretty damn close. The plane landed us in Quito, Ecuador. It was a cool 104 degrees Fahrenheit. The three-hour plane ride from San Diego allowed us to look over the information again and meet our team. Tank (Richard Lovejoy), Bobby, and Lester worked for me at RangeMan and I had been assigned with Paul Plum before.

Paul seemed protective over Stephanie, glaring at me every time he looked over. This would be fun.

Bree Ret, however I'd never met, but apparently Stephanie knew her. And apparently Paul _really _knew her…

She was pretty with long hair, about the length of Stephanie's reaching the middle of her back. Hers was blonde and perfectly straight, though. Her eyes were the color of honey and she had about the tan Stephanie did, not much.

Bree didn't have the fire and venom in her eyes. She was the same height and weight as Stephanie, but she looked her height and weight. Stephanie looked as if she could take down Tank, and she probably could.

Now, I'm not saying Bree didn't have the same strength that Steph did. I'm sure she did. The papers say she's a trained Ranger. Not just anybody can pass Ranger training.

♫

I can't freaking believe we landed in Ecuador. One of the freaking hottest places on Earth, we have to go and drive through the rain forests during the dry season. It probably hasn't rained here in the last three months!

Bree and I talked, catching up, at the front of the group as Bobby, Lester, Tank, and Ranger stayed silent at the rear.

Tank was a huge black man with a sparkling bald head that I suspected he buffed. His real name was Robert Lovejoy, according to the papers, but 'Tank' suited him just fine, thank you very much.

Lester Santos was a little lighter than Ranger and had hair about an eighth of an inch long. He had a fast smile and came across as a Lady's Man. His eyes were greener than green and twinkled no matter the situation brought up in the plane.

Bobby Brown, Robert, was exactly like Lester with Tank's head and coloring.

We were supposed to get our 'Mode of Transportation' from a nearby house. We found the house and I knocked on the door.

An Ecuadorian man opened the door and peered out at us.

"We've been sent by Gerald Simmons to get a vehicle. My name is Stephanie Plum," I introduced myself.

"Hello, Ms. Plum," he smiled at me as he spoke with an extremely heavy Hispanic accent. "Yes, Mr. Simmons spoke with me. Please, come around back."

He led us to a barn that I assumed served as a garage. We went around back to a small fenced in pasture filled with eleven horses.

"You are very lucky, my lady, horses are not regular around here, and these horses are very fast; trained wild horses." My idea of transportation was very different.

"Uh—there are no cars? Trucks? SUVs?

"Not where you are going. No roads. You need a mule or donkey, but Mr. Simmons wanted horses."

"Okay, thank you." I was truly speechless.

Seven horses had blankets draped over their backs and leather bridles coming from their head. The remaining four horses had ropes and bags attached to them. The luggage horses. Why three?

I dug my gun out of my bag, shoved it in the back of my pants, along with bullets in my pocket and went up to a horse. She was a Palomino. Just looking at her, her back came to my chin. I had gone to a horse riding camp in elementary school through girl scouts, so I knew I needed a leg up, and so would Bree.

Ranger appeared by my shoulder and smiled. "Need help?"

"I can do this just fine, thank you." What a lie.

I put my single duffle bag on one of the luggage horses, slung my bag-slash-purse-slash-backpack on my back, and led the beautiful Palomino over to the fence. I placed her right next to it, climbed up on the fence, and sat my butt on the blanket draped over the horse. Easy as pie.

I flashed a smile over at Ranger, who was seated on a black horse with a black mane and tail.

Bree watched me carefully on my horse-mounting-tactics and followed, landing herself on a dark brown horse with black hair.

The man came back to us; handed us each three water bottles, which I put in my bag; and put many, many bags in the third luggage horse and strapped a cooler on its back. The fourth horse carried horse feed, and a crap load of it.

Food. He told us there were many more water bottles in the cooler. Along with some cheese and some milk for protein since we couldn't cook meat.

The man came up to Ranger and I, sitting next to each other, and looked up at us. "Thank you for doing this for my country," he told us. "You have no idea how much Rodolfo Andrés has effected my family. My daughter, Rosie, got very sick from him. He raped her and beat her. This man almost killed my daughter, and I could do nothing about it. She's just a baby, seventeen years old and now is very hurt. I am not a man who would wish bad things on someone, but please; don't let him hurt anyone else."

♫

Two hours into our journey my ass was asleep, I needed to take a piss, sweat soaked my shirt, and Stephanie was riding next to me, hypnotizing me. Her body strode with the horses and we went at a walk. Two down, ninety-four to go.

The luggage horses followed peacefully among us; quite obediently, actually. We were told that if we needed to run, the horses would follow. I just really hoped it was true.

If anyone ever asks me what I learned on this mission, its that horses walk at excruciatingly, agonizingly, painfully slow paces. Not that I'm complaining; we could be walking.

Rodolfo Andrés was a major drug cartel who liked to rape, beat, and drug girls to death, almost. He'd make them wish they were dead; he'd beat them to a bloody pulp and intentionally give them an overdose of amphetamines. The overdose would give them just enough not to die, and when they woke up, they'd feel the effects of the rape, the beating, and the crash.

We were sent to 'take care of' Andrés. Andrés had also been sending amphetamines, cocaine, and GHB (the date rape drug, approved by him, personally) to America.

The team was being sent to a government contacts house, Juan Martinez. Juan lived in the middle of the rain forest. At the rate we were going, we could make it in four days, if we traveled straight through, not stopping. We planned on sleeping every other night for five hours, so we would make it in five days.

♪

The rain forest could be unpredictable at night. Each of us had one of those huge flashlights.

Stephanie let out a blood curdling scream from next to me. My first thought was that someone had shot her, but there had been no shots fired. She got her gun out and started shooting the hell out of the ground.

I caught sight of what she was shooting and agreed it was worth a shot, but she probably could have stopped at one bullet, rather than turning the boa constrictor into mince meat.

The horses flinched and stopped moving at her scream, but I was glad she had a silencer on her pistol, or else they wouldn't have taken that so well. Shots came from another angle and I noticed Bree shooting at the snake as well. This was going to be a long week.

Their gun held sixteen rounds and after the thirty-two shots fired, Bree looked satisfied at the bullet riddled snake and Stephanie reached in her pocket for another clip.

"Stephanie?" I said to her.

"Yeah?" she asked, finishing loading, aiming the gun at the snake again, firing.

"The snake's dead."

She stopped at about five. "Are you sure?"

She looked worried, unsure, and terrified. "Yeah. I think the snake was dead at one bullet to the head. Look at him-" her lip curled "-you've turned him into ground meat with thirty-seven shots. It's dead."

Paul had been busting a gut since the shooting started and hadn't calmed down yet…I suppose he's seen this before.

She had a white knuckled grip and her face looked like she'd seen a ghost. Barbie with a gun. What has the world come to?

My watch said it was about 0300 hours. "It'll only be dark for another hour or two. Are you okay?" Not that that much sunlight slipped through the canopy of the jungle.

She blankly nodded her head, wide eyed with horror.

"Are you sure?" My turn to be worried and disbelieving.

"Yeah, Bree and I don't like snakes and spiders."

"I could tell." She shot me a pissed look and Bree spoke up.

"I never had a problem with snakes or spiders before I met Steph. It kinda rubbed off on me. This one time at the zoo, a poisonous snake got loose halfway across the park and the worker thought Steph was having a heart attack."

"You've never let me live that down. I almost did have a heart attack!"

"Honey, I don't doubt it for a second. But they were hauling out the defibulater, thinking they needed to restart your heart."

"Humph."

She nudged the flank of her Palomino and walked over the shredded boa, leaving us to follow; and we did.

A crash rolled above us, indicating thunder, and an instant downpour started down.

Thunder continued to casually clap over us, and the rain fell on our already sweat-soaked clothing and horses.

"Refill your empty water bottles with rain water. It's clean," Stephanie advised us. The water pelted us, even through the trees.

I decided to take back the silent Barbie comments, considering that she was pretty smart.


	4. Chapter 4

Standard Disclaimer applies. Janet owns them…I don't. I'm not making any money, nor do I wish to. This story takes place in alternate universe. Characters are changed for better or for worse.

**Chapter 4**

♫

Five minutes later, my curls drooped down, plastered to my face, neck, shoulders and back; my clothes clung to my skin, soaked with a combination of sweat and rain water; and my butt, feet, hands, and legs were caked in soggy, sloppy mud from the barren floor of the tropical rain forest in Ecuador. Life didn't get any better. I finished the last quarter of my water bottle in one big gulp, and stood up.

The horses had their heads bent, drinking water from a creek cutting through our path. Thankfully, there were many creeks, brooks, and small rivers along the way; it saved us from having to fill the buckets with water for the horses to drink.

One by one, the large animals lifted their heads passing the occasional look back at us. I didn't want to leave yet. It was still raining hard; not to mention, I didn't have a way to mount on my own this time…

"We should keep moving," Tank suggested.

"If we keep stopping every time it rains for the whole duration of the rain, it'll take us a week and a half to get to Martin's cabin," commented Ranger. Great, what was that supposed to mean? Every time it rains?

I took my Palomino's reigns and, once again, thought about how to go about mounting. I let out a sigh of defeat and looked over to find my source of help. "Ranger?" I asked. He looked over and half smiled at me, raising one eyebrow in question. "I think I need a leg up."

His smile grew to a beautiful two-hundred watts as he walked over to me. "I've been thinking about putting my hands on your legs since I met you," Ranger whispered against my ear, his hot breath moist on my skin. I shivered beneath it, but I wouldn't tell him I've been thinking about his hands on my legs as well.

I turned to him and shot him a pissy look. "Maybe you should be thinking about someone else…like Bree."

"If it's all the same to you, man," Paul yelled over to us, "I'd prefer to do the thinking about Bree."

"Opps," Lester commented, "Sorry man!"

"Your ass better be sorry, Santos!"

"And to think," Said Ranger, "I hired these morons."

"Hey," Bree interrupted, "If him, Lester, and Ranger want to think about me, they very well can!"

_"Bree!"_ I couldn't believe what came from her mouth.

"Good point, Steph. I don't want any of you thinking about me. Humph."

"What about me?" Paul asked getting close to her. They've had something going on over the last years and will never fess up to it.

"Mmm, okay; maybe you. But no one else!"

I rolled my eyes worthy of my Burg girl roots. You can take the girl out of the Burg; but you can't take the Burg out of the girl. I moved from Trenton six years ago, but I'm still that same Jersey Girl…with tattoos, piercings, and a gun.

Ranger helped me on the horse, and we went on our way in the rain.

♪

Four and a half days later, we were looking for where we were supposed to turn off the path.

"Hey Ranger and Stephanie, why don't you ride ahead, and try to find where we're going?"

We took the idea, and set off on the path at a cantor; looking for a tree with a black rope tied around the trunk, ten feet up.

About two miles up, we found it. We were fifteen minutes to Juan Martin's house, hidden in the rain forest.

It'd be about forty five minutes before the rest of the group would catch up, so Ranger and I up mounted and stretched our legs.

"Why do you act like you don't like me?" he asked me.

I was taken back from his question. "I kind of have to like you, Ranger. We're co-captaining a team to take out a major drug cartel."

"I'm not talking about being partners. I'm talking about me as a man, you as a woman."

Oh. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Liar, liar; pants on fire!

"Really?" He pulled me flush against him and kissed me softly on the lips, before they, by themselves without my approval, opened for him, letting him in to kiss me fully, to tangle his tongue with mine, his tongue massaging mine.

And, I liked it.

Ranger deepened the kiss. His hands smoothed down my back, down to my ass, cupping it. My hands tangled in his loose hair. He was wearing black cargo pants and a loose, black, sleeveless tee; along with boots. I had on hot pink cargo pants, a used-to-be-white-now-brown strappy tank top, and a pair of gray and pink Nike Shocks. We were coated in mud, head to toe, kissing and groping one another, in the middle of a tropical rain forest…in Ecuador.

At least no one was around.

♫

Stephanie's mouth was on mine. Her hands were tangled in my hair. My hands cupped her nicely rounded butt. Her body was perfectly molded to mine.

She leaned away from the kiss; still in my arms.

"You shouldn't do that," she said. Her eyes were clear blue, cheeks flushed, breathing heavy, and lips full and pouty.

"You say this, but you really want me to do it again."

"Please don't…we'd really like to come out of the forest now," Lester's voice came.

"Are you done yet?" asked Paul. "That's my sister, you know. And she's right; you shouldn't do that." His tone was dry. I don't blame him, if he were me and she were my sister, my tone would be pretty dry as well.

"Opps," she whispered to me and I chuckled softly.

"Hint, hint, Manoso," no more dryness in his voice, "Get your hands off my sister's ass!"

"Do I have to?" They say there was never such a thing as a stupid question…

"Yes!" …And let me tell you, they were wrong.

I let go of Steph, and her brother shot me a death glare. I could take him…Although, that wouldn't put me in great standings with Steph. Huh; I'd have to think about this.


	5. Chapter 5

Standard Disclaimer applies. Janet owns them…I don't. I'm not making any money, nor do I wish to. This story takes place in alternate universe. Characters are changed for better or for worse.

**Chapter 5**

I let go of Steph, and her brother shot me a death glare. I could take him…Although, that wouldn't put me in great standings with Steph. Huh; I'd have to think about this.

♫

Ranger let go of me and a part of me felt disappointed. The other part felt angry and wanted to hit him. The angry part raged on,_ He had no right kissing me like that!_

_Yes, but that doesn't mean you didn't like it,_ the disappointed part reasoned. I was putting my money on the disappointed-he-let-go part being logical.

I looked over at Paul. His face was red, there was a vein throbbing in his neck, he was staring at the ground as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, and he was taking in slow, deep breaths. Unhappy older brother. Sometimes it wasn't that great being the baby of the family.

Paul walked up to Ranger and stood directly in front of him. They were the same size and toe-to-toe (as they were) they stood the same height. Through teeth so clenched you could here them grind, Paul minced out, "If I _ever_ catch your hands around my sister ever again while I'm alive, I won't be held responsible for my actions."

"_Excuse _me?" I shrieked. "What about _me_ being held responsible for my actions?"

"Steph," Paul tried to say, "Manoso is not the kind of guy you want to get mixed up with. I'm trying to take care of you." 

"Incase you have forgotten, I am a trained Army Ranger. I can take care of myself. I can _kiss _who I want. I can _sleep with _who I want. And I can be _touched _by who the fucking hell I want!

"Do NOT baby me, just because I am the baby. I'm twenty-four years old. I have a freaking PhD. in music. I have an honorable discharge from the Army after serving as a Ranger.

"I have my own job. I own my own home. I have my own chimpanzee to take care of. I'm not three years old anymore. If I don't want Manoso to kiss me, then I'll tell him not to kiss me!"

I turned to Ranger and continued on, "Manoso, don't kiss me!"

With that, I took the reigns of my Palomino and headed of the path cutting through the tropical Ecuadorian rain forest and disappeared into the trees only minutes later finding Juan Martin's house.

♪

Juan was Columbian but had moved to Ecuador some time ago. His skin ebony colored and his accent was thick, regardless of his well spoken English. His dreadlocks were long and tied back Jack Sparrow style with a bandana. He wore cargo shorts and a green tee.

Juan was a contact of the United States government. He was silently high in the governments of the South American countries.

He showed us through the house. Where the kitchen was, our bedroom suites, and the extra equipment we'd need when it got closer to D-Day. Each suite had two bedrooms and a bathroom; along with a nice little sitting area.

Ranger and I were the captains of our team, therefore we shared a suite. Ours had a small computer area as well. I flopped down on the couch and my satellite phone rang. "Hello?" I answered.

"Stephanie, this is Rik."

Ah, the owner of Kindermusic Diego. Kindermusic Diego was where I taught piano, vocal, and flute lessons. Rik, Richard Cannon, was the owner of the small freshly discovered music store.

"Hey Rik, what's up?"

"Stephanie, we're terminating your services. We can't have a teacher who is always taking off and leaving constantly. And we don't know when or if you're going to be back. I'm sorry, Steph." Disconnect.

♫

I stepped out of the shower, which Steph had graciously let me use first, telling me she had important business to take care of at UCLA.

"Fuck!" I heard her yell.

I stepped out of the bathroom, my towel secured around my waist. "Something wrong Babe?"

She shot me a glare. "I believe we came to the decision that you weren't going to call me 'Babe,'" she reminded me. "I sat on the couch and got a call from the music store I teach at. I'm an independent contractor and they terminated my employment. After I got over fuming from that, I called UCLA, asking my assistant how practice went today. I was told it was so good, the dean decided to reverse our positions. I refused to be the assistant band director, considering I am the one with the doctorates degree, and they told me the position would be filled by someone else."

She stormed out of the suite and yelled for Paul. Talk about women being confusing…


	6. Chapter 6

Standard Disclaimer applies. Janet owns them…I don't. I'm not making any money, nor do I wish to. This story takes place in alternate universe. Characters are changed for better or for worse.

**Chapter 6**

She stormed out of the suite and yelled for Paul. Talk about women being confusing…

♫

"Paul!" I heard her yelling, signaling to step out of my suite I was sharing with Bree. I hated the fact that Stephanie and Manoso were sharing a room.

"He freaking fired me!" she told me.

Thoughts streamed through. Simmons? Rik? UCLA?

"Who?"

"Rik and the UCLA dean! I have no job other than with the government."

Stephanie had nothing tying her to California. And she had slightly mentioned over the years that she was homesick and missed Trenton. Not to bask in someone else's misfortune, but I wanted my sister closer to home than that.

I know, I know. My sister is a trained Army Special Forces Ranger. Stephanie Helen Plum can take care of herself. But, come on…I'm the older brother. Aren't I supposed to be over protective? Besides our sister Valerie, her three girls, and her husband lived in Trenton; before our parents passed, they lived in Trenton.

"Steph. Maybe it's time to come home."

Anger flushed from her eyes, replaced by something more innocent. Confused. Not long, though, before she placed her blank face back.

"Yeah," she said, "Maybe it is."

♫

After a much needed shower and a change of clothes into hot pink capris and a pale pink tank top, I fluffed my hair with gel and swiped on some eyeliner and mascara and headed out to find food.

Bobby and Lester were out in the kitchen. "So, Boss, what's the plan?" they asked.

"You know the drill, boys; you find out the plan with the rest of the team. After I get some food. The quicker I get food the quicker you get the plan."

They exchanged glances and turned toward the fridge, pulling out lunch meat, condiments, bread, and beer.

I'm not gonna lie. Having two very hunky men make you a sandwich _fast_ is quite nice. I sat on a bar stool at the counter eating my sandwich drinking a Corona and looked around Juan's kitchen.

It was surprisingly modern for the house. Actually, come to think of it, the whole house was surprisingly modern for the house. The outside of the house looked like any other Ecuadorian home placed in the middle of a jungle. The inside, however, was not. It looked like a very wealthy American's home. The kitchen had stainless steel appliances and a terracotta tiled floor. There was a window above the large steal washbasin looking out through the immense clearing toward the impossible to climb wall that surrounds the jungle.

Looking at the house from the outside, it was a sprawling ranch. There was the front door, which led you into a parlor on one side and two more casual sitting rooms on the other, past that a formal dining room, two casual dining rooms, and to the biggest kitchen I'd ever seen in my life, and on the other side had a huge cutout from the wall giving visual access to the casual dining areas. That made the North Wing of the house.

In the East Wing of the house was the bedroom suites—eight in all, plus one single room suite Paul was staying in, plus Juan's bedroom.

The Southwest Wing of the house was technical. It was a gigantic control room that held computers, monitors, buttons, switches, gizmos, and all sorts of other technology not yet on the market.

The house did have an attic, housing rooms for the maids, butlers, and cooks. Juan Martinez lived a good life with good food and good service. End of story.

♪

We all sat in our suite. Bobby, Lester, and Tank were piled on a dark brown leather couch, making a nice color contrast to the creamy beige walls.

Paul sat backward in a chair from a small dining table in the room, his legs draped to either side looking like a kid again. In most ways, Paul pretty much was still a kid. We lived a life that didn't allow you to screw up, to make boo-boos, to have minor accidents. Minor accidents led up to major deaths. I've seen Paul work. Serious face planted firmly. Not ready to take any shit. Other times, I've seen Paul goof off. Throw me in a lake. Throw his girlfriend in a lake. Throw Bree in a lake. (All in fun, I see now, but we didn't at the time.) He could be my protective, loving, caring, and fun older brother. Or he could be the Army Special Forces Ranger.

Right now, with his legs on either side of the chair and his Rangers hat on backward he gave off the appearance of a younger kid. Someone out to have fun. But I knew better. I'd known him all my life and all his Ranger life. Paul was not here to goof off. My brother was intently listening to what I was saying. He knew every word coming from my mouth, he knew everybody's positions and movements, and he knew exactly whatever the hell he was staring at on the cherry hardwood floors looked like. To anyone else, Paul looked relaxed. To us, he was ready to attack at any given moment. As well as everybody else in the room.

Ranger sat in an over stuffed chair matching the couch. Legs outstretched, arms folded across his chest, and ankles overlapping. He stared at me intently as if unsure what to think of me. He was obviously physically attracted to me, but he'd never seen my work before. I didn't blame him. When I first met Bree, I didn't know what to think of her either.

Speaking of which, Bree was sitting on the back of the couch, back to the wall, legs hanging freely between Lester Santos and Bobby Brown. I wasn't fooled. I knew exactly what she was up to. And Bobby Brown was about to find out full blown.

I stood in front of the group, a black chalkboard behind me; a thin, long pencil of chalk between my fingers.

Written on the board in my loopy cursive:

**Step One:**

**Learning who Rodolfo Andrés is**

**Step Two:**

**The Set-up**

**Step Three:**

**D-Day**

**Step Four:**

**Getting Out with our man**

We got to the point that he is a major drug and arms dealer from Ecuador to the United States. Hence the freaking fact we were in Ecuador. Andrés rarely dared to leave Ecuadorian soil and venture in the United States. Meaning that it would be next to impossible to catch him without leaving state-side.

"Okay," I projected my voice, "Rodolfo Andrés is our man. Age sixty-two. Dark eyes, whitish-gray hair slicked back normally, Hispanic olive skin tone.

"He deals drugs and arms to American mafia figures. He also has a taste for prostitutes—specifically two at once—and he beats them to a point where they beg for death. But he doesn't kill them."

I looked around the room again. None of the faces were happy. Prostitute or not, these men did not like the beating of an innocent civilian.

"The set-up is—" I tapped _Step Two_ written on the board "—for Paul and Ranger to meet with Andrés and request weapons that aren't on the market yet. But, there's no money, so Bree and I are the payment.

"Which, brings us to the plan—" I tapped _Step Three_ "—including Bree and I, prostitutes, to _distract_ Andrés to get Bobby, Tank, and Lester into the house. Ranger and Paul will already be on the properties, so this should be easy. Questons, comments?"

"I don't like this," Paul ground out between teeth. The rest of the guys made affirmative _mmm'_s and _huh'_s. Not much you can pronounce when you have tetanus symptoms.

♫

I saw it in almost slow motion. It was like I wanted to jump up and stop it. I'd never worked with Ranger Manoso before, but he seems good at what he does. He'd taken to Steph, as well, which I was undecided about.

Yes, I'd taken to Bobby Brown, and I'd talked to Bobby about Ranger; Bobby says Ranger actually is in for more than a one-nighter with Stephanie; but I still wasn't sure about him.

I knew though, right then and there that he had a lot to learn about her…her and her past. Paul and I watched in horror at the gentle touch from Ranger about to confirm his disapproval to the plan.

She withdrew, we knew she would, turned around quick, and stared at him, petrified. Deer in the headlights.

Steph has had extensive Ranger training…hell, she's one of the best in the field, but since The Dick (AKA Richard "Dickie" Orr) a slight touch of someone she knew would release an awful reaction. She could nail a stranger's balls to the wall, but Ranger, until she got to know him better…

Tears welled in her eyes as she sank to the floor. Let me give you a little background on our girl.

Stephanie Plum was just out of a relationship with a total prick. Prick is quite mild for him. Pretty much he made her fall in love, turned her into the consistency of pudding, and beat her to a pulp physically and verbally. Yes, this United States soldier was beaten by The Dick. If it weren't for Paul, her sister Valerie, and me, she'd still be with him, I'm sure.

Since then, a slight touch by someone she only half knows will turn her back into a bowl of pudding. Let's just say, I wouldn't be surprised if one of these days Mr. Richard Orr, Attorney at Law ended up _mysteriously_ missing.


	7. Chapter 7

Standard Disclaimer applies. Janet owns them…I don't. I'm not making any money, nor do I wish to. This story takes place in alternate universe. Characters are changed for better or for worse.

Slight smut warning. Enjoy!

♫-signifies a change in POV, may or may not be a change in time frame.

**Chapter 7**

Since then, a slight touch by someone she only half knows will turn her back into a bowl of pudding. Let's just say, I wouldn't be surprised if one of these days Mr. Richard Orr, Attorney at Law ended up _mysteriously_ missing.

♫

Stephanie's eyes retracted and any light in her face burned out at my touch. She stared at me as if I was about to kill her. Scratch that, she probably wouldn't have been that scared if I were about to kill her.

"Stephanie?" I asked.

The signs of abuse were crystal clear. Nobody needed to spell it out for me; I just wondered who the fuck did this to her.

Bree leaped down from the chair and grabbed her upper arms forcing her to look into her eyes, calming her.

♫

I sucked in deep breathes of air. It was just Ranger, I told myself, he's not going to hit you.

"Babe?" I heard him say.

"I was pretty sure we established you wouldn't call me 'Babe.'" I noted and he looked like the world had just been taken off his shoulders. "So, does anybody have any questions on the plan?"

"Yeah," Paul spoke up, "What the fuck's up with you and Bree going in, Steph? Why can't we just going in SWAT style and do a bust?"

"Because, A, this is the way we're doing it, and B, SWAT style would result in too many deaths. Besides, we don't have enough troops to going in SWAT style. That's why. More questions?" There was none. "Good, D-Day will be March third." Today was January third and March third would give us two months for the set up.

♫

Ranger and I were standing side by side in the bathroom brushing our teeth and getting ready for bed. I spat in the sink and rinsed out my mouth before attempting to talk.

"Ranger?"

"Babe, I'm sorry for this afternoon," he told me.

"Can we talk about that?"

He looked hesitant. "Do you want to?"

"Yeah."

We walked out to the sitting area and sat alongside each other on the overstuffed couch.

"I dated Dickie Orr for six months and he was charming, kind, loving, and a perfect gentleman. Then, things got sticky. We'd fight. He'd get upset if I went away for a week or two. Dickie'd yell. Eventually yelling turned to hitting. If I tried to hit him back, he would beat me like hell. He never raped me. He never even had sex with me. He hated me."

I took a deep breath before going on, trying to hide the tears that threatened to fall. "Dickie would strip me naked and take a stick and flick it at me across my stomach. Bree found out and eventually Paul and I talked them out of killing Dickie and just helping me get out. I was living in Grand Rapids, Michigan at the time. Bree and Paul helped me relocate to San Diego.

"Dickie isn't trained in any military tactics; he's a lawyer. I got to keep my name, but one day, Dickie just woke up and I wasn't living in my house. Paul stayed there and told him what happened and that was the end of it. I'm pretty sure he doesn't know I'm living in San Diego. I haven't heard from him since."

I realized the tears fell, followed by others and Ranger was holding me against him.

After a few minutes he whispered into my ear, "Babe, can I kiss you?"

I turned toward him. "Please do."

His lips gently brushed mine and his tongue slipped between my lips meeting mine. His arms encircled my hips and cupped my butt and I found myself straddling his lap. His hands skimmed up my shirt and I felt warm fingertips caressing my breasts softly, teasing my contracted nipples through my shirt. I could feel his growing erection pressing into my crotch through our pants. I let out a slight moan and his kiss became more demanding.

♫

"Hey Boss!" someone yelled. It was Lester and in he walked. Mental note to self number one: _shoot __Santos__ in the foot when this job is over._

"Go away!" I yelled.

"It's Woody, he says it's important!" Lester replied, and then absorbed some of his surroundings. Mental note to self number two: _give __Santos__ the poor-awareness lecture. _"Oh, Jesus, sorry!"

"Woody?" Steph asked.

"Do you really need an explanation?"

"Nope."

"Uh, hi Steph."

"Hi, Lester."

"Sorry, man. Call Woody."

I nodded my head and he left. I gave Stephanie a small kiss. "I'll be back."


	8. Chapter 8

Standard Disclaimer applies. Janet owns them…I don't. I'm not making any money, nor do I wish to. This story takes place in alternate universe. Characters are changed for better or for worse.

♪ - Indicates elapse in time, same POV

♫ - Indicates different POV, may or may not have a elapse in time

**Chapter 8**

I nodded my head and he left. I gave Stephanie a small kiss. "I'll be back."

♫

The brief synopsis of that night is, by the time Ric (no longer Ranger) got back, I was exhausted from the whole trip, tired of waiting, and fell asleep on the couch. I ended up curled next to Ranger in his bed the next morning. I don't know whether to say fortunately or unfortunately, but still, nothing has happened.

Tonight was the second of March. Everybody was like a cat on a hot tin roof in the middle of August. Tomorrow was the night Bree and I could possibly lose our lives. Or worse, be injured so horribly to the point we couldn't contemplate what we were feeling. We were nervous, but the insanity in us was thriving free and we were outrageously excited.

Tonight, everybody was going out to a local bar called the Gracias Senorita. We would throw back our shots, let loose a little, and would have fun. Special Forces always did this, not for any sort of team bonding, but for maybe the last time in our possibly shortened lives, we wanted to have fun. So we did.

♪

The next day, I woke up wrapped in Ric's arms. Nothing (still) had happened the night before. I was still wearing the tiny silver dress and my feet ached from the outrageous, sliver, strappy sandals complete with a three-and-a-half inch heal.

I rolled over to look at the clock, noticed it was 1300, groaned and rolled onto my back. Ric popped an eye open and looked out at me. Lord, this man was beautiful.

I was not thinking good thoughts all the while staring at the man himself, when Mother Nature kicked in and reminded me I had to use the restroom.

I removed myself from the bed, wincing as I stepped on feet sore from a long nights dancing, and hobbled to the bathroom where I took care of business, washed my face, removed last nights crusty eye makeup, and brushed my teeth. I climbed back into bed again feeling refreshed and snuggled up next to Ric.

I could feel the smoothness of his bare chest against the low back of my dress. He took off his jacket, tie, and shirt leaving his suit pants to sleep in.

We had been too exhausted and drunk to get undressed last night much less fool around. "Your feet sore Babe?" Ric asked. I sleepily grunted a yes.

He sat at the end of the bed and placed my legs in his lap and started massaging the aches and pains out of the muscles of each foot. His hands started working higher and higher and he massaged my calves, my quads, and my hamstrings.

I was in a state of blissful sleepiness when he laid his body over mine and kissed me sweetly and tenderly before settling beside me. Disappointment flooded my veins. A woman has her needs, you know!

"You need concentration and rest for tonight," his lips whispered against the shell of my ear. "And when I finally have my way with you-" his voice was low and deep, like a growl "-you won't have any concentration left for anything else.

"We should get some more sleep," he added.

I thought about being laid-off and telling Paul I'd move back home.

"Ric?" I whispered and rolled over to face him. "Remember how I got laid off?" He nodded. "The only thing keeping me in San Diego was the job at UCLA. All my family lives in Trenton. I'm moving back there."

He smiled and placed a kiss on my forehead. "Are you related to a Vincent Plum?" he asked.

I frowned disgustedly. Vinnie was the worm swimming around in our gene pool that owned a bail bond business right outside the Burg. Right after telling a gorgeous man I was moving 2,000 miles closer, I would think he wouldn't ask me about that weasel.

"Vinnie is the boil on the back of our family tree. And is my cousin on my dad's side," I admitted.

Ric let out a low chuckle. "RangeMan does some skip-tracing for him. We're short handed, why don't you help out?"

I told Ric I'd think about it and fell into a peaceful sleep in his arms before I had to face what I would tonight.

♪

Andrés radiated slime. He was a handsome man, I would give him that. His eyes took everything in, but nothing ever came out. Black holes, they were. He wore an expensive suit; black with gray pinstripes. How mobster original-and we weren't even on the East Coast.

Bree wore a dress that had a one-inch inseam. The v-neck of the red silk dress came below her pierced belly-button and almost down the I'm-glad-I-shaved region and she wore stripper pumps that made her seven inches taller.

I had on a black leather mini-skirt; and when I say mini, I mean tiny. Bree and I were small women at four-eleven each. Today we decided five-six worked and made it happen thanks to Pricilla's adult store. My shirt (more like a bra) was strapless and had cups that rounded my breasts just past my nipples and were connected with a single, thin tied string. The outfit showed off the _Strength _written under my left shoulder and the barbed wire tattooed on my right bicep. I too, had my belly-button pierced.

I was in full alert mode. No man could take me out of my state. My new name was Tiffany Sands and Bree was Cindy Hutchison.

Andrés shook hands with Ric and Paul. No shaking hands with us, we weren't human to him. We were simply a short-term possession.

Andrés led Bree and I into the house. I was nervous but would never show it. Ever.

He had each of us by the arm on either side and invited us to sit down on a leather couch by a bar.

"Ladies, can I interest you in some wine before we _get started_?" he asked. Men, go figure.

"Rodolfo, Cindy and I would _love_ some wine," I said in a sultry voice. He handed us a glass and I took a small sip licking my lips afterwards.

I knew the instant the liquid touched my lips that there was more to it than just wine. We were being drugged. Bree knew it as well, but we played along like any other time.

"Mr. Andrés, this is exquisite. Now, Tiffany and I need to _get ready_. Mind if we use your restroom?"

He smiled. "Down this hallway on your left. Don't be long," he warned.

We rushed off and went into the bathroom. It was probably bugged so I whispered as softly as Bree could hear.

"He's either going to beat us because we're prostitutes or he knows," I warned her.

"He wouldn't kill us right away, though. He'd want to keep us alive." I didn't know which was worse.

"Keep strong."

If we threw up, he'd know immediately from our breath. I was starting to feel dizzy from the effects of the drug. Whatever it was, it was meant to put us out.

We hurried back to the bar but didn't get the chance to sit before my world went black.

♪

My eyes we closed when I started to come around. I had no way of knowing how much time had passed. My hands were bound in front of me and so were my ankles; it felt like netting underneath me. I was cold and I was naked. I wasn't raped, though, but my head pounded.

I felt a body on top of mine and instinctively knew it was Bree. She was naked as well. It was then I realized her whispering.

"Steph? Steph? Are you okay?"

I opened my eyes to see her crushed on top of me. Blood dripped out of her hair line.

"Oh, God, Bree, you're bleeding," I told her.

"I know. So are you. I haven't been raped though. Have you?"

Bree rolled off of me and laid next to me. I reached up with my hands and winced as I found the gash in the upper right of my scalp. I took Bree's head in my hands and parted her bloodstained honey blonde hair to find a similar gash in her scalp. We had probably been hit with something. My stomach churned.

I looked out. We were lying on a huge net hanging at least ten stories off the ground strung between four trees across the lower canopy. The net was huge; about twenty by twenty feet and I could see others across the net; Ric and Paul. My throat was dry and it was hard to speak.

"Ric, Paul!" I yelled out.

They didn't answer. They were lying next to each other. My heart thumped in my chest and I rushed over to them. I checked Ric's pulse and listened to his breathing. Both seemed fine. Paul has dried blood over his arm and I found it was from a grazed bullet wound. I examined it a little closer and put my hand close to it to see how bad it was.

Paul jerked his hand away and sat up straight. "What the fuck?"

"Good morning, Sunshine," I said sarcastically.

He looked around, remembering what had happened. We were directly in the middle of the net. Then he glanced at me.

"_What _the _fuck_?"

"Exactly what I'm thinking."

His eyes softened then filled with rage when he took in how Bree and I looked. Ric and Paul were wearing boxer shorts. Lucky. I was freezing. "What the hell happened? Are you to okay?"

"He drugged us. We're okay."

"Andrés' men brought us up here. There's a ladder over there going up that tree he had us climb." He took my hands and bit the duct tape off my wrists and then did Bree's. I unwrapped the tape from my legs, taking off whatever hair grew overnight…or however long it had been.

I looked down at the ground. Andrés had a man standing guard. He had a large gun (I couldn't tell what it was from the distance) strapped around his shoulder and I'm sure he was also armed with a hand gun.

Ric woke up and looked at me. "Babe," his voice was hoarse and he sounded of sleep. "Are you two alright?" His deep brown eyes bore into my own.

"Yeah," I told him the rest of what I knew…which was nothing.

"He knows the US government sent us, Babe."

This information was new to me.

"What's the plan, Captain?" Paul asked, voice dead serious.

One had been forming all along. "Simmons told me between you and Mañoso, we'll be fool-proof thinking on our feet."

Ric and I crawled over to a corner of the net. Moving wasn't hard to do from the very finely sown netting and falling out wasn't an option thanks to five foot netted walls going up the sides.

"I'm feeling a tad self-conscious," I admitted.

He gave me a wolf grin. "You should be. You should be glad your brother's up here."

"Where are your men?" I asked him.

"Not sure."

"Is there always only one guard at a time?"

"Yes."

"Will he ever come up here?"

"Three times a day to give us a PB&J and a bottle of water. Five times to let us use the bathroom. They don't want us soiling the net. He should be up in a while for food."

"That's when we'll attack him," I offered.

"We'll unarm him. He has an M-16 A2 hung around his shoulders. He'll take that off when he climbs up. He has a .9mm Glock in his waist band and a knife in his boot," Ric informed me.

"He comes up; you go behind him and grab his gun."

Fifteen minutes later, the guard came up. He had a back pack on. Ranger snuck up behind him and grabbed the Glock.

Before I knew what was happening, he grabbed me from behind and held a knife against my throat. He spoke in a thick accent. "You put the gun down now, or I slit her throat and let my friend have her. Your choice."

The knife was already slicing into my neck. Blood was seeping down my naked body.

"Or, how's this? You put the gun down now, I kill her. You choose to hold the gun longer, I won't be so merciful."

Ric didn't hesitate for a moment. He pulled the trigger and the man went down. I went down with him, but not before the knife sliced through my left shoulder. I yelp out in pain before shimmying free. The four of us climbed down the ladder and ran off into the forest.

Trees were scattered and there was no vegetation on the ground so hiding would be difficult once the other guards got through the brush. I was running butt-naked through the woods with blood running from my shoulder and my head.

Guards we're almost catching up to us. Shooting was hard. We were scattered and running around trees in uncertain paths.

A jolt of pain went into my calf and I went down. A man caught me and I kicked out. He wouldn't let go and I found myself being dragged back. I lost Ric and Paul.

♪

I woke up again in a chair. My ankles were each bound painfully to the legs and my wrists were each bound toward the tops of the hind legs.

Bree was sitting in front of me in a similar fashion. No drugs were used to knock us out this time. She had fresh blood trickling down her face, and I imagined I did as well.

She looked at me with honey brown eyes. "We'll get out of this Steph," she assured me. "We always do."

"I don't know if I want to get out of it this time," I admitted.

She gave me a small smile. "It'll be okay."


	9. Chapter 9

Standard Disclaimer applies. Janet owns them…I don't. I'm not making any money, nor do I wish to. This story takes place in alternate universe. Characters are changed for better or for worse.

Thank you to my editor, of course, the lovely Carmen Harper!

♪ - Indicates elapse in time, same POV

♫ - Indicates different POV, may or may not have a elapse in time

**Chapter 9**

A large man came in the door. He had a full belly and a bald head. He came around behind me where I couldn't see him. Two hairy hands cupped my breasts making me sick.

"Don't worry, bitch. You'll live. I'll make sure of it," he promised. "And I'm not the one you have to worry about." He laughed and the sound of it made me sick to my stomach.

"I'll start with your friend here," he said to me before looking at her. "Cindy Hutchison, eh? My boss is to believe the name you more commonly go by is Bree Ret. Is that correct?"

Bree didn't answer. I heard a horrible cracking noise as his fist collided with her jaw.

"Bree Ret it is then. You know Bree; I've heard women's parts are very sensitive. I want to hear you scream." He sat on her lap. "It really gets me off." He ran the blade of the knife down the top of her breast almost to her nipple. Tears pooled in her eyes, but she didn't make a sound. The man ran the blade around the 'U' of her collar bone and then down her sternum. He took the knife and lightly sliced her hairline. The tears fell constantly and she bit her lip to keep from screaming.

I was horrified. My best friend in this whole world was covered in blood and I was tied to a chair watching it.

"Ready to tell me where you're staying?"

She didn't speak.

"That's a pretty nice lip ring your friend has here. Wonder what it'd feel like now?" He reached over to me and twisted the hoop shaped ring in my lip around and around and ripped it as hard as he could. I gasped as blood filled my mouth and dripped down my chin. "How about this?"

He took his knife and wiped it off on my shoulder and traced my cheek bones with the tip of the blade stopping short of my temple. I was working hard not to bit my lip and cry out at the same time.

"Tiffany Sands, I heard, is really Stephanie Plum. Is that right?" His hand ended up coated in blood as he struck the cheek he just sliced.

When I didn't answer he took the knife and swung it through my left shoulder. I screamed out in pain as it hit me.

"Stephanie, where are you staying?" He put the knife strategically through the back of my elbow so that it didn't slice the artery. In a way I wish it did. That would have been a much quicker death than this.

I was a Ranger. No matter the circumstances, I would not give up my secrets. And this would certainly not stop me.

The man walked out. And he walked out, only to be replaced by someone else bearing a baseball bat, a hammer, a rolling pin, and a BB gun. What a lovely young man. He couldn't have yet been eighteen and had native features. Ironically, he spoke with a thick British accent.

"'ello there, ladies. I'm the _tools_ guy. Larry was the knife person. Looks like he did a pretty nice job. I'm just here to continue it…in my own way.

"Care to tell me where you're staying?"

"We figured you already knew," Bree spat out. "You've found out everything else." The boy's fist swung out and the hammer he held smacked into her already cracked jawbone.

"Hmm, yes. We found out that Stephanie Plum, Bree Ret, Paul Plum, Ricardo Carlos Mañoso, Lester Santos, Bobby Brown, and Robert Lovejoy are all working together. We narrowed it down to two places that they could be staying. Either the Equator Inn in Quito or Juan Martinez's house in the middle of the forest. Which will it be?"

"It's none of your business," I said sweetly.

"Oh I can make it my business. My father, Rodolfo Andrés, never saw Bobby Brown, Lester Santos, or Robert Lovejoy. Now, tell me, are they here, or back there? Maybe I should just tell my father to raid Martinez's house?"

They didn't have the guys. There was still hope. I saw it register in Bree's eyes.

"I heard that Ms. Stephanie Plum is flexible," he said when I didn't answer. He took my right leg and held it made at a ninety degree angle with my body and I braced myself for what was to come. He buckled my knee backwards and decreased the angle to my body.

"Stephanie, where are those three men?"

"I don't know," I answered. It was the truth. They were probably in the house or on the grounds of Andrés' property, but I really wasn't sure.

"Sure you want to stick with that answer?"

"Please," I said, "I really don't know where they are." As much as I wanted them to be in the house, I had no idea.

He took a knife out of his pocket and jammed it through the back of my bent knee.

"Well, now it's just time for me to have fun."

He took the BB gun and pressed it against the crease in front of my right hip. Now, if you get shot from about ten feet or more with a BB gun, the BB with leave a huge welt. Between five and ten feet, the BB will puncture, but not badly. Less than five feet, the BB will puncture. Direct shooting, it will be like you were shot with a .22. He fired the gun and a bullet went into my hip.

He took the rolling pin and swung it against my face flat in front and I heard my nose crack. He swung the hammer and I felt a hard hit to my forehead before blackness crept over.

♫

Stephanie was unconscious. I got scared. She just hung in her bindings. Fresh tears leaked out of my eyes. I was watching my best friend get beaten to a pulp and next was my turn.

The boy took his knife and sliced through the ropes, letting her flop to the floor.

"I never did like women leaders," he sneered.

"Now, Bree, is it Martinez's house or the Inn?"

"I don't think I care to answer that," I replied.

"Do you see what I've done to Stephanie?" he asked.

"No shit, I've seen; I'm not blind, dumbass," I replied.

"I could do the same to you."

"Go ahead," I spat back, "You still won't know where we're staying."

His fist swung and hit my jaw. "I could just let you starve up in the net a couple more days. The bugs will get to the fresh blood."

The man took the hammer and smashed it against my back making it hard to breathe. He hit the metal baseball bat against my rib cage and then turned and did so to Stephanie.

Her breathing was labored. It hurt me to look at her. For the first time, I really wasn't sure if we would make it or not. We would die, here in this room. And we would die a painful death. No one was going to save us this time. There was no way out.

Stephanie made a gurgling sound as she tried to breathe past her own blood.

I screamed at her. "Stephanie, wake up!" If she woke up, she could cough a little. She wouldn't drown. She kept making the bubbling sound softly in her throat. It wasn't bad, but I knew it would get worse.

"Honey, she's not waking up. She's out cold."

He took the bat to her stomach. The man hit her a few more times. I was oblivious to the turn when he started working on me. I was bleeding. I was bruised. I was dying. Neither of us was going to make it.

Soon enough, darkness overcame me as well.


	10. Chapter 10

Standard Disclaimer applies. Janet owns them…I don't. I'm not making any money, nor do I wish to. This story takes place in alternate universe. Characters are changed for better or for worse.

**Chapter 10**

Soon enough, darkness overcame me as well.

♫

Tank, Bobby, and Lester walked in the small room. They had four minutes to get Stephanie and Bree out of the house before it blew. Tank was counting down. Ric and Paul were outside, hiding behind the thick entrance to the tropical rain forest.

They saw Steph and Bree lying unconscious. Tank swung Stephanie over his shoulder and Lester carried Bree.

"Time is precious, men," Tank said to the rest of the group as they ran out of the house. "We have three minutes to get away from the house. It'll take us ninety seconds to reach the doors without complications. We need to get as far away from the house as possible."

The men had been waiting in the house for the last while. They had drugged every known person and set the house to explode. In two and a half minutes, Rodolfo Andrés will be dead.

They exited the house and found the clearing they had made for themselves. Tanks heart stopped dead in his chest but he kept running when he heard the yelling. "Hey, wait!" He looked back for a split second to see an overweight guard running toward them.

The men picked up the pace. There was no way the man would make the explosion. He was running too slowly.

Tank counted. Thirty seconds…twenty seconds…fifteen…ten, nine, eight, seven, six-they reached the forest- five, four, three, two, one.

The world behind them went up in flames. The ground shook beneath them. Tank didn't want them to be thrown. Stephanie's and Bree's bodies were in much too delicate condition to undergo much more pressure. And Tank didn't ignore the bubbling Stephanie and Bree were making. It scared the shit out of him.

♫

Paul and I were in the helicopter back to the states. The flight was estimated to take an hour and a half. A hospital in San Diego awaited their coming, hearing how critical it was.

Bobby made a thoracostomy in their chest to save them from drowning on their blood. That _should_ keep them alive until we reached the hospital in about forty-five minutes, Bobby had said. Paul, Tank, Bobby, Lester, and I were out of danger…but they weren't.

"Damn!" Paul exclaimed. The two women he loved most in this world were lying here dying. "I knew this wasn't a good idea. Why the fuck did we go through with this?"

My thoughts exactly. That didn't stop me from trying to reason with myself. They were trained. It could've happened to any of us.

"We knew exactly what this man did to girls before we went into this," he went on. "We saw the daughter of the man that gave us the horses. We knew exactly what could have happened. And what did we do? We fucking let it happen."

An exact continuation of my thoughts.

I lightly held Stephanie's hand. It was mangled and probably badly broken. Not to mention the knife hole going directly through it. I thought back to the day I watched her conduct an orchestra. Would she ever be able to do that again? I though back to listening to her practice the piano late at night. How the beautiful melodies wound together in perfection. Her other hand didn't look much better.

I looked at her face. She was beautiful. Her hair was matted with blood, fresh and dried. Her nose was flattened and had been smashed. She had a huge bloody indentation in her forehead. I wondered if she would remember me or anybody else for that matter. Her lip ring had been ripped out and she had a slice along her cheekbone.

She had several knife wounds and a gunshot wound in her hip. Her knee was at an off angle, extremely swollen and bruising quite nicely. I figured someone buckled it backward and put a knife through it. I wondered if she'd ever walk again.

It made me sick, noting all the damage done to her. Within the past couple months I had been falling in love with her. It all seemed odd to me. And I hadn't even fucked her yet. Go figure.

I looked over at Bree. She had several bruises, slices, and probably broken bones.

Bobby had said that the girls would make it through the flight. But would they ever be able to function again? There was a big difference between dead and alive. But there was a space between. There was a big difference, again, between a walking, talking, functioning person and a vegetable.

The helicopter landed on the pad of the hospital. Nurses started flooding the rooftop and doctors pulled them out of the chopper and started yelling orders. They had survived the trip. It was looking up.

♫

They both needed X-rays, cat-scans, sutures, and whatever the hell they did to your bones when you break one in surgery. But that would come later. They needed to get the critical stuff out of the way.

Ric and I went in search of coffee. Boy did I need some. We found a small food court when it appeared I was starving.

We made orders worthy of the large military men we were and found a table. I looked across at Ric. He had been spending a lot of time with my sister. And word got around that they were sharing a bed. No word about them having sex. As a matter of fact, there was word that they haven't. I was unsure about Mañoso. I had heard about his reputation with women. And I didn't like it

"Mañoso, have you had sex with my sister?"

He looked at me wearily. "No," he stated.

"But you've been sharing a bed with her?"

"Yeah."

"But you haven't had sex with her?"

"No."

"I find that kinda odd. You've been sharing a bed with a woman. I mean maybe I've over looked a few things being that Steph is my sister, but she is a beautiful woman. You haven't had sex with her?"

"Stephanie is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life. Being that I've gotten to know her, she's even more gorgeous. And if you want to know my intentions, I might be falling in love with your sister. And, for the last time, I have not had sex with her…yet."

♫

The man across from me nodded. Thank god. After my final soliloquy he shut up. Although, after thinking about it, I would be just as cautious with my own sisters.

We waited in the waiting room until a nurse came out to get us. She led us into an empty waiting room and gave us the news. She was pretty. Her hair was blonde, long and straight. She had deep brown eyes contrasting with her pale skin. Opposite of Stephanie. More like Bree with the hair and eyes. Very East Coast's version of California.

"Stephanie Plum," she stated. "Shattered kneecap, shattered every bone in her hand—her fingers remained fine, though—has a major concussion from receiving quite a blow to the forehead. Broken nose, which turned out to be a lot worse than it looked. She had a collapsed lung from where a fragment of a shattered rib punctured her lung. Multiple shattered, crushed, and fractured ribs. A sliced ligament from where a knife entered her elbow. The BB was extracted from her hip. It hit her at such an angle that it didn't break her hipbone, she was very lucky. Although, for that deep of penetration of a BB, it would've had to be shot at close range." I didn't want to think about that. "Also, we are supposed to call the police to report this. Which we will do once Stephanie's awake. You will probably also be asked to make a statement."

"The government will take care of that," I assured her. "Not to mention we took care of any and all that caused this."

The woman looked skeptical but continued on.

"Bree Ret suffered a broken nose and jaw. Along with several knife wounds and slices and a major concussion. Several fractured, crushed, and shattered ribs. Both women lost a lot of blood and had to be transfused."

She flipped a page on her clipboard. She looked at us, concerned. "We had been asked to run a rape-kit." My heart dropped and the room swam. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. "The kits came back negative." I felt the relief hit me like a wave in the ocean.

"Stephanie and Bree are sharing an ICU room on the eleventh floor." She flipped through a few more pages. "Room 1172. They are sleeping and need their rest and are also heavily medicated, but you can visit them now."

We started to head to the elevator when she called us back. "Mr. Plum, Mr. Mañoso, the doctors agree that the thoracostomy was done excellently and that probably saved Ms. Plum's and Ms. Ret's lives."

We nodded and headed to the elevator.

♫

You know those dreams, where you fall down in the middle of the street and a tanker truck comes along and is aiming right at you, but you can't find the strength or energy to get off the ground and move; so you try to crawl away but you're not fast enough and you wake up right before the truck hits you?

Yeah, well that's how I felt. I couldn't move well. I was heavily drugged.

I pulled my eyes open to find a darkened hospital room before me and a slightly propped up hospital bed beneath me. I had an IV sticking into my arm and I looked at the holder to find about eighty different bags pumping into me.

Next to the IV pump, Ric was in a chair sleeping, gently holding my hand. On the other side of me, Paul was in a chair sleeping, holding my other hand and holding Bree's. Bree was beyond the separating curtain that was pulled aside to let the rooms join.

My right knee was in a brace and on top of a pillow. My left hand was in a cast and my right was in an ACE wrap, feeling like a knife went through it…oh wait, one did.

I carefully pulled my hand from the men's. My head pounded and I reached up to feel a bandage around it. Great, that was probably attractive. My elbow was heavily bandaged and probably was stitched up underneath.

I was alive. I still couldn't believe it. I still didn't know what happened. Paul and Ric looked tired and I didn't want to wake them up.

I did, however, have to pee.

I spotted a wheelchair directly next to my bed. I got up and my vision blurred, my stomach dropped, and my head hurt worse. Concussion.

I carefully lowered myself into the chair, only putting any weight on my left leg. I was off to the bathroom.

Or maybe not. With the cast, the bandage, and the hole in my hand and elbow, I couldn't exactly _wheel_ myself.

_That's okay, Stephanie_, I told myself, _you're probably going to be in a wheelchair for a while. You're going to have to figure something out. You can't be dependant on someone to get you to the freaking bathroom._

I pulled myself with my left leg and eventually got to the bathroom, feeling proud of myself and what I had accomplished. I took care of business, splashed some water on my face from the sink, and found a toothbrush and used it.

I exited the bathroom to find the lights on, the men awake, along with Bree. They were smiling amusedly.

"Steph," Paul said, "You could've asked one of us for help, you know."

"I didn't want to wake you up," I stated.

"We're your brother and…whatever the hell Ric is to you. You could've woken us up. No. Big. Deal."

"You guys need sleep, too," I stated. "Besides, what the hell even happened? Where are the rest of the guys? And where are we?"

"We are at the San Diego Hospital. The guys are on a flight here. Later today, probably, you and Bree will be transferred to St. Francis," Ric told me. "Tank, Bobby, and Lester drugged the house and set it to blow up. Found you unconscious in a room, pulled you out, and ran away from the house. The house blew up, Bobby preformed a thoracostomy, and Paul and I boarded a very cramped medical helicopter that had been on call here to take us here."

I leaned back against the bed. "My life is insane," I commented.

"Oh, and by the way," Paul said, "I, uh, kind of took the initiative and got movers to pack up your house and move your stuff to a storage unit in Trenton."

I stared him down. "Guess there's no changing my mind about moving, now!" I said exasperated.

"You're moving home?!" Bree squealed. "I would get up and hug you, but I'm really drugged and I hurt."

"It's the thought that counts."


	11. Chapter 11

Standard Disclaimer applies. Janet owns them…I don't. I'm not making any money, nor do I wish to. This story takes place in alternate universe. Characters are changed for better or for worse.

A/N Thank you to my magnificent editor, Carmen Harper! Thanks (I think) to my wonderful (a-hem…) cousin Zack for the helping me not think like a women…Don't ask.

Chapter 11

"You're moving home?!" Bree squealed. "I would get up and hug you, but I'm really drugged and I hurt."

"It's the thought that counts."

♪

Two weeks later, I was changed into a pair of blue jeans, a black hoodie with 'ARMY' written in yellow on it, and was heading out of the hospital in a wheelchair that they were being nice enough to let me keep, considering I couldn't walk on my own.

I could sometimes walk with crutches, but it would bother my elbow, where the ligament was sliced.

The only stitches were in my knee, elbow, and hip. I had had surgery on my knee to repair the kneecap that had been shattered. My hands were healing pretty well by themselves.

I had been attending in-patient physical therapy daily. They told me I'd never be able to walk again and should just get used to being bound to a wheelchair.

I told them to shove it up their asses and teach me how to walk again. So that's what they have been doing.

Ric carefully picked me up from the wheelchair and placed me behind the passenger seat of the SUV he was driving. Bree climbed out of the wheelchair and hoisted herself into the seat next to me. I could tell the simple action took a lot of her energy.

"I'm putting in retirement papers," I stated blankly.

"Good, take me with you," Bree said.

"Bree, I'm twenty-six now. Three months ago I could say I was a trained Army Ranger, had a doctorates degree, taught piano, vocal, and flute lessons, and taught at a nationally recognized college.

"Now what can I say? I'm twenty-six and have a doctorates degree which I'm currently not even _using_. I'm canceling my contract with the government for medical purposes and I was fired from my two _legit_ jobs."

I wanted to cry, but couldn't bring myself to it.

"You still have a pet chimpanzee which is waiting for you at my house," Paul said from the driver's seat.

"That's not even permissible!" I wailed. "A friend gave her to me!"

"Yeah, but you and Lucy have each other. What else can you do with your degree?"

"Teach, conduct, and become a professional musician…which is too hard to establish yourself."

"Put an ad in the paper, start doing lessons out of your home. You could put together a children's band or orchestra and work with kids instead of college age students. And if you really wanted to be a pro music man, you could look through ads. People need people to play or sing at weddings or funerals or during church services."

"Oh, great!" I cried out, "Now I can just be the wedding singer. Besides, I don't have anywhere to live, remember?"

"Your house sold," Ranger commented.

"What?"

"Your house in San Diego sold."

"I freaking heard what you said. You were planning on telling me this, when?"

"When you weren't drugged to the gills," Paul butted in, "The money for it is in your bank account. I handled all the paper work. You can get your own apartment or house or mausoleum when you are more adjusted."

I froze. Adjusted? "Just what would I be _adjusting_ to?" I asked.

"Stephanie," Paul began.

"No, there is nothing to adjust to. I'm going to recover, get my own place, and live a normal life. _Normally._ _Recovered._ With nothing abnormal or un-recovered about me. Got it?"

"Stephanie. The doctors say you won't ever walk again. Can't you at least get it through your thick skull that it's a possibility?"

"Screw the freaking doctors. You know what? I don't give a rat's ass about what they say. I'll be walking just fine in a couple weeks, a few months at the most."

"Stephanie, grow up and face the music." He paused. Face the music? Hmm. "Okay, wrong cliché to use. But grow up and at least plan for the future."

"I _am_ planning for the future. I'll be able to walk again in a few months."

His teeth were gritted. "Stephanie."

"Fine, I'll give myself a year, if it makes you happy. March of next year, I'll be able to walk."

"Okay, I'll make a deal with you. Until March of next year, you don't live alone. You either move in with Mom and Dad, or Valerie, or me. But whether you walk or not, you can live by yourself then. Or if you can get walking before that, you can move out before then. But March is your new deadline."

"I don't want to live with you!"

"She can live with me," Ranger butted in.

"What?"

"Would you rather live with your overprotective brother, your Burg sister, your mother and father, or me?"

"Good point. Fine then, Paul, I'll live with Ric."

"You said I wouldn't live alone and I won't be."

Oh…my…god. I just agreed to move in with Ric. Did he even live in Trenton?

Paul pulled into a 7-Eleven and pulled back out going the opposite direction as before. "What are you doing?" I asked, curious.

"I'm obviously taking you to Mañoso's house."

"Where is it?"

"Outside of Trenton," Ric replied.

"How far outside Trenton? And what is it like?"

"It's more like outside of New York. I share the house with my A-Team. I'm sure you understand the bonds within that." And I did. "It's secluded and secure."

"Wait!" I yelled. Paul slammed on the brakes and cars behind us honked and almost hit us.

"What?"

"We gotta go to your house and get Lucy!" I demanded.

Cars behind us kept protesting while Paul took the time to beat his head against the steering wheel of the SUV we were in. He pulled into the Cluck-in-a-Bucket and turned around once again. I was about to be reunited with my chimp.


	12. Chapter 12

Standard Disclaimer applies. Janet owns them…I don't. I'm not making any money, nor do I wish to. This story takes place in alternate universe. Characters are changed for better or for worse.

Thank you to my magnificent editor, Carmen Harper!

Chapter 12

"Wait!" I yelled. Paul slammed on the brakes and cars behind us honked and almost hit us.

"What?"

"We gotta go to your house and get Lucy!" I demanded.

Cars behind us kept protesting while Paul took the time to beat his head against the steering wheel of the SUV we were in. He pulled into the Cluck-in-a-Bucket and turned around once again. I was about to be reunited with my chimp.

♪

An hour and a half later I had Lucy sitting on my lap as Ric rolled me into the house. Of course it wasn't all _rolling_. Ric carried the wheelchair up the steps to the huge porch while I stood at the bottom on one foot and then he carried me up the stairs.

Stairs. Oh Lordy, life was not looking easy in the near future. "I should get around to using crutches more," I commented to nobody at all. I had started using crutches in the hospital, but it wasn't that easy. I had a tendency to put my right leg down causing to hurt at extreme levels. Stupid of me, I know. Not to mention they hurt my armpits…though it did take a toll of my ass.

Crutches it was. I stood up and looked at the man in front of me. "Ric? Can you get my crutches?" I pleaded sweetly with puppy dog eyes. He sighed—yes the man sighed—and went to the car.

He handed me the dreadful pieces of equipment and I put them under me. "Do I get the inside or outside tour first?" I asked him.

"We're already inside," he said to me.

So far it looked to me that the whole house had black walnut hard wood flooring. We walked into a family room with a gigantic black suede sectional wrapping around the room in a 'U'. There was a big cocktail table sitting on top of a nice looking rug and in front of a big screen TV. I was not going to regret living here.

He showed me where the little office was that contained a computer I could use and went on to a kitchen my mother would die for. Glossy black, ceramic tile floors. Stainless steel, top of the line appliances. Black granite counter tops. Cherry wood cabinets. Everything was cleaned and put in its proper place.

"Hmm…I might have to get in here and use your kitchen," I commented to Ranger.

"Do you cook?"

"I bake. To the max," I said with a grin.

"Babe, that stuff with kill you."

I rolled my eyes and we moved forward with the show. There was a living room done in beige and cocoa brown.

"Ready to go to the second floor?" he asked. "The house is five stories with an attic. Bobby and Lester have bedrooms on the second floor. Tank and I have bedrooms on the third floor. There are guest bedrooms on the fourth floor. The fifth floor has a bunch of storage stuff and junk that can be cleared and give us a few more guest rooms. And there's more junk in the attic with room for all the shit that's on the fifth floor.

"I figured you shouldn't stay on the fourth floor by yourself so you can stay on the third floor if you want," he continued.

Ric pulled me close and was whispering against my lips before fully kissing me. "What do say?" he mumbled.

I smiled against his warm soft lips. God help me. "Sounds good to me," I said.

"A-hem. I came into the parlor to try to read," a voice I knew came from behind us.

I turned around to see Bobby standing there with a novel in hand. _The Purpose Driven Life_, Ric Warren. Hmm…

I tugged on Ranger's arm. "Come on, show me the outside. _That_ I was dying to see."

We went out the back door in the family room. We stepped onto the country porch that wrapped the circumference of the giant, dusty blue farm house and closed the frosted glass French doors behind us. I noticed a lot of French doors here. It was only March in Jersey making it cold and windy but the snow had melted revealing an expanse of promising grass before it turned into sand and then the choppy waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

On either side of the property, Norwegian Spruces served as a fence. We walked around the porch to the front and spotted a few plots where gardens would soon be later in the spring.

Ric explained that he had two gardeners that came and tended to the gardens in mid-April. "My mother was a master gardener," he told me, "I always wanted a yard like that, but I have more money than I do time and have been forced to hire a gardener."

♪

The next morning I sat in a pair of gray sweatpants a few sizes too big with "ARMY" written vertically down from the knees and the elastic cut out from the ankles and a pale pink long sleeved tee shirt, on a faux-leather bed-like-thing, in a small room with textured gold wallpaper, waiting for the physical therapist to come in. Ranger stood next to the bed on the side of the wall wearing dark loose-fitting jeans and a black painted on tee shirt with Nike running shoes and a quirked smile on his face.

"What are you smiling at?" I asked him.

"Is the Army paying you to advertise their name on everything?" he asked.

"I happen to like wearing these pants, thank you very much."

"Are those the same one's from basic?"

"Yup," I said. So what if I still had a pair of sweatpants I had to wake up and do morning exercises in during my basic training. "They gave us new ones for Ranger training," I reminded him. Those were black with gray writing. Very imaginative.

"Do you still have those, too?"

"Yup. Why? Don't you have all your stuff from basic and Ranger training?"

He smiled with all two-hundred watts. "Yup."

Two guys came in the room. One had an athletic build gone unused for a while and the other had a soft build gone soft with a beer belly hanging over. He had a bald head and a dark reddish goatee. I put him in his late twenties, maybe early thirties.

The first guy had a dark hair that was starting to recede. I put him in his mid-to-late-thirties. "Hi, Stephanie?" he said, "I'm Dane and this is my assistant, Brian. What's going on?"

"Well, the dumbass doctors said I'll never walk again. My knee was buckled backward and stabbed. My hamstring snapped and my kneecap shattered."

"Holy hell, how did that happen?"

"I was kidnapped and tortured and by the way if you tell me I won't walk again, it won't be worth it. I will. You'll help me. Got it?"

"You were kidnapped and tortured?" he asked dumbfounded. Geez, do men never listen?

"Do I have to threaten you with my gun?" I asked, "Or are you going to reply to my question?"

I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked over to see Ranger. "Stephanie, maybe you shouldn't threaten them _until_ they do something wrong."

I sighed. Okay, maybe he was right.

"I'll do what I can to get you back to normal, Stephanie," Dane assured me. "Now, we'll probably be working in the pool and in the gym, so wear sweats and bring a swim suit. I assume you're not driving?"

"Why can't I drive?" I asked.

"You're injured in your right leg. You might find it difficult or painful to press the pedals properly," he explained.

"Then I'll drive with my left foot," I justified. He looked incredulous. Hey, how hard could it be?"

♪

The next day I got out of physical therapy and I headed to my red Jeep Liberty, opened the back door to put my crutches in, and climbed in the driver's seat, and headed to music stores in the area. I found it really wasn't difficult to drive left footed and actually started to feel normal after about five minutes.

First on my list was a place called Herder's Music Center. I walked in and found it was mainly instrument retail with a few books. I walked up to an older man standing at the counter.

"Hi," I said to him. "I'm new in the area and am trying to find a job or students teaching piano, vocals, and flute."

"Hello!" he said. "I'm Reid Herder. It's nice to meet you!" He seemed really energetic and had a great character.

"Stephanie Plum," I replied, taking the hand he had offered.

"We don't do lessons here, but I can take your name and number for you."

I had business cards from when I lived in San Diego and gave him one of them, putting the correct cell-phone number on it. "I charge twenty dollars for a half-hour lesson and thirty-five for an hour. I'm going to also have new business cards made out, and I can give you a stack of those."

"Honey, we have people coming in all the time looking for a piano teacher. The lady I usually refer people to ended up booked with students and she's now moving to Washington D.C. If she needs a teacher to replace her I'll be sure to refer you," he assured me. "What can I tell her?"

"I have a doctorates degree in music and I was the music director at the UCLA until a few months ago."

"My Lord," he said, "You shouldn't have any problem finding students."

My next stop was to a place called Montello's Printing. I had business cards made up and ready to pick up in about two hours.

I headed back to the house to find more people there than when I left.

"Stephanie! You move in with some man and don't tell your own sister?" she scolded me. My brother sat on the couch, an apologetic look on his face. Apologetic, my ass.

"Val, I was planning on calling, I've just been to physical therapy and looking at local music stores."

"Did you get a job? I always knew you should go into a more promising career than music. You're a beautiful musician, sweetie, but there's such a challenge to get settled in to it."

"Valerie, I'm _Doctor _Plum, I'll have no problem getting students. I can sweet talk them with all my credentials."

She looked unsure but nodded her head. "And what about this government business. I hear your retiring?"

I looked at Paul. "Is there anything you can keep sealed in that mouth of yours?" I asked him. "I canceled my contract on the grounds of medical reasoning," I explained to my sister.

Val was playing protective older sister. As if I didn't get enough from Paul. "Hon, are you sure this is what you want to do? You could just heal your leg and go back in. Incase the music stuff doesn't work out."

"Val, I think I'm done with my government contract."

"You know, Daddy didn't retire until Mama got pregnant with Paul. He was thirty-three and still had a lot of fight left in him. Your only twenty-six. You could go on for many more years."

"Val, I might never walk again. I don't think I'll be sent out again." I didn't believe it for a second, but it'd help get her off my tail.

Lucy was sitting on Paul's lap silently listening to the conversation. I had no doubt that she understood words. She started talking and rubbing her stomach. Signaling she was either going to throw up or she was hungry.

"Are you hungry?" I asked her. She bobbed her head up and down and smiled. She followed me into the kitchen and I set her on the island, giving her a banana.

"You know, Luce, sometimes I just wish she would accept me for who I am. Not everything she wants me to be. It's always something. Whether I live in California, or I'm not doing my government thing anymore, or I'm a musician she wants me to be something else."

I felt his arms encircle me and his head press against the side of mine. "She accepts you, Babe; and she loves you very much, I can tell. She just doesn't understand about the way you live your life and what's important."


	13. Chapter 13

Standard Disclaimer applies. Janet owns them…I don't. I'm not making any money, nor do I wish to. This story takes place in alternate universe. Characters are changed for better or for worse.

Thank you to my magnificent editor, Carmen Harper!

**Chapter 13 **

"Are you hungry?" I asked her. She bobbed her head up and down and smiled. She followed me into the kitchen and I set her on the island, giving her a banana.

"You know, Luce, sometimes I just wish they would accept me for who I am. Not everything they want me to be. It's always something. Whether I live in California, or I'm not doing my government thing anymore, or I'm a musician they want me to be something else."

I felt his arms encircle me and his head press against the side of mine. "They accept you, Babe; and they love you very much, I can tell. They just don't understand about the way you live your life and what's important."

♫

Stephanie's cell phone rang while my arms were around her. She didn't move away but reached into her pocket and pulled it out. By the look on her face, she didn't recognize the caller. "Dr. Stephanie Plum," she answered. I couldn't hear the caller on the other line. "Oh, hello…yeah…I'm having new business cards made up…I'm about to go pick them up. I can stop by your place and drop some off…Okay let me get directions." She mouthed _pen and paper_ to me and I handed her a pad of sticky notes and a blue felt tip pen. She took down some directions and ended the call, promising to be there within an hour and a half.

I cocked an eyebrow at her.

"I stopped by a place called Herder's Music Center today. They don't do lessons but they have a teacher they usually refer to. She's booked with students, though, and is moving to DC. She just called and wants to refer her students to me."

♫

I said goodbye to my family and headed to New York City. Amber Rider lived in an upper class apartment building in the penthouse. I was guessing that she really catered to a lot of students.

I needed a plan, and one formed.

I rode the elevator to the twenty-seventh floor of the office building and knocked on the door to apartment 527.

A woman with bright red hair cut very short and very straight answered the door. She had dark eyes, a nice smile, and a tall, lanky body.

"You must be Dr. Plum!" she said with a smile.

"Please," I insisted, "Call me Stephanie."

"Oh, come in."

I walked into the apartment. It was nicely furnished. Very tasteful and expensive.

She led me into a room very similar to a room I had back in San Diego. My music room. It held a white glossy grand piano, a few string instruments, various music stands, and many file cabinets I assumed were filled with books and music. A piano bench just didn't cut it when it came to holding music.

"My husband works for the secret services," she explained. "They want to relocate him to Washington D.C. Give him a little more toward the front line, if you know what I mean."

I smiled. "I do know what you mean. I am an ex-Army Ranger. Up until very recently I had a contract with the government doing various work."

"Really? A military musician. How interesting! Can I tell my students?"

"Well, I wasn't in the band in the Army. But through out the rest of my life, I've been a musician. I started working on my degree when I was sixteen with dual-enrollment in high school. I doubled up in online courses while in the Rangers and got my PhD when I was twenty-three."

"Okay. Now, Mr. Robertson told you that I'm booked, right? I have thirty-six students. I usually work noon to three Monday through Saturday. Usually the parents are okay to make it up if you have to miss a day or you suddenly get sick. But you generally know the deal with teaching piano."

Amber showed me the lesson books she used. She also taught vocals so was handing those students over to me as well.

"Now do you teach out of your home?" she asked.

"I use to teach at a music shop. Now I'm living with a friend while my knee is healing, so I'm thinking of renting a business office in the city and putting a piano in it." That was my plan. Meaning I'd need another piano.

♪

My next step was to actually _find _this office and a piano. I decided to tackle the office side first before a thought hit me. I dialed Ranger on my cell.

"Yo."

"Yo yourself, it's me."

"What's up, Babe?"

I explained my idea of the office piano lessons. "But, I don't want to put my practicing time in at this office. Can I take over one of the fifth floor rooms? I'll take care of everything. I'll get movers to move stuff to the basement and to move the grand piano up the stairs…"

"I'm not sure about the piano, but the guys and I will take care of the stuff in the bedroom now. Why don't you stop by the RangeMan building? We might have something to offer you."

♫

I gave Stephanie directions to the office building and exited my office into the control room.

"Let Woody at the front desk know to send Stephanie up when she gets here," I ordered Tank. "She can't get in through the garage, so I told her she could go through the lobby."

"What's Steph comin' up here for?" Lester asked, turning around from his computer.

"She said she was looking into getting an office building while she was living with us to do her piano lessons in. I figured why not give her one of the studio apartments on the fourth floor we're not using? Also, she needs the stuff cleaned out of the fifth floor bedroom, but we might as well let her use the fourth floor." Tank shook his head and picked up the phone to dial the lobby.

"What, she doesn't want to share a room with you anymore? Trouble with your lady friend?" Tank asked.

"No, she's going to use it for her music room."

"Man you got it _bad_," Bobby said.

"Not that it's any of your business, but Stephanie and I haven't had sex."

All three of the men in the control room busted out laughing. Tank started to calm down and looked at me. "I think he's serious," he said, hanging up the phone.

"Just so you know," Lester told me, "I'll help with the whole cleaning out the bedroom stuff. But I'm doing it for Steph, not your pathetic ass."

A few minutes later, the woman in question arrived.

♫

Ric showed me a studio apartment on the fourth floor. It had a bed in one corner, a kitchen to the side, a sitting area with a television, and a bathroom to the other side.

An upright or Standish piano would fit perfectly against the wall, I thought to myself. On the other hand, I felt like I was accepting so much of him already.

"Ric," I asked, "why are you doing this?"

He sighed and looked me in the eyes. He took my hands, pulled me close and wrapped them around his waist. Cupping my face, he admitted, "I want you close." He kissed me for all we were worth. His hands snaked up my shirt to grab my breast, massaging it. After a minute or two, he backed away.

"Later," he said, "I have work to do."

Yeah, I've heard that one before…


	14. Chapter 14

Standard Disclaimer applies. Janet owns them…I don't. I'm not making any money, nor do I wish to. This story takes place in alternate universe. Characters are changed for better or for worse.

Smut warning J.

Thank you to my magnificent editor, Carmen Harper!

**Chapter 14**

He sighed and looked me in the eyes. He took my hands, pulled me close and wrapped them around his waist. Cupping my face, he admitted, "I want you close." He kissed me for all we were worth. His hands snaked up my shirt to grab my breast, massaging it. After a minute or two, he backed away.

"Later," he said, "I have work to do."

Yeah, I've heard that one before…

♪

I walked through the front door to the house and my stomach lead me to the kitchen. I found olives, peanut butter, and some bread. It was the _we-contain-eighty-two-hole-grains _kind, but it would have to do.

Half way through my sandwich I heard the front door open. It was only three o'clock and the guys said they usually work until four-thirty.

The kitchen door opened and I felt a prickle at the back of my neck. I turned around to see Ric standing there in the door jam. "Come here," he said.

I stood up from my seat and walked closer to him. He pulled me into him and his lips crashed down on mine before picking me up and carrying me up two flights of stairs. Impressive, but then of course I was only four-eleven and weighed seventy-nine pounds.

_He backed me up against the wall in the bedroom and kissed me until I practically had an orgasm. And I gave as well as I got._

_Ranger pulled away and stared into my eyes. Unguarded. "Babe, now's your time to back out."_

_I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him to me as I pressed myself against him. Words weren't necessary. He pressed his hard body against me, crushing me against the wall and I could feel him pressing into my stomach._

_His arms snaked around behind me and cupped my ass while grinding me against him; picking me up, and carrying me to the bed._

_My linen skirt was pushed up and I wrapped my legs around his waist, grinding my hips back against his. I was deposited on the bed, and Ric braced himself above me, moving his mouth down my neck biting, licking, and kissing his way down. He kissed and bit along the deep cut neckline of my blouse, before going back up to the other side of my neck and face._

_His hands carefully unbuttoned my blouse and pulled the top off, then my bra, exposing my bare breasts. His lips caught my mouth as his hands kneaded my breasts, and squeezed my nipples, to almost the point of pain, but still pleasure-inducing._

_He took his mouth down to my already hard nipples and seized it within. He did the same to the other nipple. A groan entered my throat and escaped my lips, unchecked._

_Ric found the zipper and unfastened my skirt, pulling the fabric across my legs, dumping it on the floor. He picked up my leg and kissed down my leg, starting at my inner-thigh directly next to my center working toward my foot. I was thanking all the gods that I had shaved this morning. He reached my high heal clad foot and tenderly removed the beige pump. He moved to the other leg, directly next to my center, and moved toward my foot, once again eliminating my shoe._

_I was lying on the bed almost nude, with the exception of my white lace panties. And I didn't think those would last long._

_He leaned atop of me and kissed me on the lips again, with his thumb rubbing across me through my underwear._

_I didn't realize until then, that I was trembling. Soon enough, my panties joined the dress and shoes on the floor of the bedroom. He moved his mouth down and placed kisses around my center. I could've sworn heat was radiating out of me. He finally got to me and flicked his tongue inside of me. I felt a twitching inside of me. A moan broke out of my mouth._

_At last, he stood back, and peeled off his clothes, revealing strong, toned muscle underneath skin showing his Cuban lineage._

_I looked down at his bulging erection. It was big…gigantic…How the hell was __that__supposed to fit in __there_

_Ranger braced himself above me placing his weight on his forearms and positioning himself at my opening. And right then, I didn't care about how the hell that was supposed to fit in there…I wanted it. I stared into his deep eyes and he filled me. I let my head fall back as moans fled from my vocals._

_My walls burned as he worked himself in and out of me. I've never had someone so big inside of me. But along with the pain was sincere pleasure. I felt as if this, right here, was the only thing that mattered in life._

_After a few more strokes, the pain dulled and the pleasure increased. I dug my nails into his back and bit his shoulder, as if trying to grasp onto something._

_I regained full consciousness with his arms wrapped around me. "How long did the physical therapist say until you'll walk again?" he asked._

_"__Two and a half to four months," I said._

_"__When you can walk again, will you move out?"_

_"__Depends," I said, "whether or not I'm wanted to stay."_


End file.
